


A Dare is a Wish (your heart makes).

by panicparade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Chester the house elf, Drinking Games, Fluff, Leatherpants!Draco, M/M, Minister for Magic!Harry, Truth or Dare, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:10:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2119716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicparade/pseuds/panicparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco waits as Blaise takes his time, downing Pansy’s shot and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head, "I <i>dare</i> you to seduce a man of my choosing."<br/>"A dare, Blaise, really? Are we twelve again?" Draco smirks, ignoring the slight interest he feels in the dare. It <i>has been</i> quite a while since he last faced a challenge. </p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dare is a Wish (your heart makes).

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been one of the easiest fics for me to write, in terms of how not stressful it was. This is why I was loathe to change many things from the original draft and those tiny little details that should have been refined might shine through. lyonessheart - I can't thank you enough for being there 24/7 and listening to me whine and flail about this (and everything else!) ♥  
> Also, thank you digthewriter for fixing all my silly mistakes and making this fic readable! *hugs*  
> Any and all remaining mistakes are my own! :)  
> The title has been borrowed, and changed slightly, from the song in the Walt Disney version of Cinderella. ♥

"Next round is on me," Blaise slurs as he makes his way towards the bar, staggering and bumping into chairs along the way. 

Pansy sniggers next to Draco, half falling off _her_  chair as she leans across the table to stage whisper, "He’s drunk!"

The room is spinning and it is confusing Draco. He doesn’t like being confused. "Stop spinning," Draco orders the room, holding onto the table and glaring at the roof.

"Who’re you  talkin’ to?" Pansy asks suspiciously, looking behind her and under the table. When she does manage to fall off her chair, Draco wants to laugh, but he _knows_ that the chances of him throwing up are greater so he wisely keeps his mouth closed.

By the time Blaise returns with three half empty shots of Firewhisky, most of the alcohol is spilled on his robes, and Pansy has passed out on the table. Blaise tuts, sliding a shot glass towards Draco, "That girl, she could never hold her liquor."

Draco just wants the room to stop spinning.

"Make the room stop spinning," he orders Blaise, pointing a finger at him.

Blaise nods seriously and taps a finger on his chin, looking like he’s thinking about it, "Drink that." He points towards the half empty shot glass in front of Draco. "It will help with the spinning," he assures Draco.

Draco downs the shot and grimaces at the burn as it slides down his throat.

"Give it a few minutes," Blaise explains on seeing Draco frown, "How about we play something to pass the time?"

Draco slumps against the table, closing his eyes against the blurry people around him, "I just want to go home."

"C’mon! I got promoted today! If I can’t celebrate it with my best friends then who else will care?" Blaise whines, shooting Pansy a look as she snores in her sleep.

Draco blindly reaches out a hand to pat Blaise; it ends up on something wet and sticky. He looks up with a scowl to see his hand covered in Pansy’s drool and he wipes it on her robes, glaring at the sleeping witch.

"Fine!" Draco exclaims, giving in to the exaggerated pout on Blaise’s face. "What do you want to play?"

As Blaise thinks about it, Draco takes a look around the room.  He's checking out the other patrons to see if there’s anyone worthy he could take home. He eyes the barkeep, taking in the broad shoulders and muscles straining against the white t-shirt. He doesn’t normally go for the beefy types, his preferences lie more towards the powerful and influential kind, with their round glasses and intelligent eyes and messy black hair. And hands, big, strong hands that look strong enough to pick him and throw him down on a bed . . .

"You don’t have a chance." Blaise interrupts his thoughts, making Draco realise he’d been staring at the barkeep for quite a while.

"Excuse me?" Draco asks, turning to glare at Blaise. "I can bloody well have _anyone_ I want in this room."

"I doubt it."

Draco knows Blaise is leading him onto something, he can tell by the glint in his eyes and the smirk playing on his lips; Blaise has something big planned for Draco. I has almost always been just fun and games, a remnant of their years at Hogwarts where one upping each other was a fun way to pass the time. But work was driving him crazy now and Draco didn’t have time for another one of Blaise’s petty schemes. Unfortunately for him, alcohol rarely led to good decisions.

This is why he puffed his up chest and sat up straighter in his chair, "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

By the excited look on Blaise’s face, Draco could tell he had given the right answer, "As a matter of fact, you most certainly can."

Draco waits as Blaise takes his time, downing Pansy’s shot and leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed behind his head, "I <i>dare</i> you to seduce a man of my choosing."

"A dare, Blaise, really? Are we twelve again?" Draco smirks, ignoring the slight interest he feels in the dare. It <i>has been</i> quite a while since he last faced a challenge; maybe it’s just the thing he needs to take his mind off the stress at work.

"Take it or leave it, Draco." Blaise grins, "Or are you scared?"

Draco snorts. "Hardly. What are the stakes?"

"I choose the man, gay, _obviously_ , I wouldn’t want to make it more difficult for you and you have two weeks to seduce him. I’ll send you the rules and the terms by tomorrow."

Draco nods and places his head back down on his arms, the room is still spinning wildly around him again.

Two weeks, he _hardly_ needs that long. He’d have this dare done within two days. Draco always wondered how Blaise’s baby grand piano would look in his foyer. Or maybe the dragon hide boots he’d bought at Milan. Either way, Blaise is going to lose and Draco will have something to distract him with.

(*)

"Master Draco?"

Draco groans and rolls over, pulling his duvet over his head to block the cursed sunlight intent on ruining his sleep.

"Master Draco needs to be waking up."

He curses and burrows deeper into his blanket nest, enjoying the comfortable warmth surrounding him. He’s almost asleep again when the covers are unceremoniously yanked from his body and he’s left cold and blinded.

For a minute all Draco does is blink and shiver, trying to comprehend why his blanket nest has disappeared. It’s only when he hears the sound of laughter coming from behind him, that he puts two and two together.

"Chester!!" Draco sits up and points at the laughing house elf who doesn’t seem a bit cowered by the Malfoy glaring at him.

"Give them back to me," Draco orders and holds his hand out, waiting for the blankets to be deposited back to him. Instead, Chester vanishes the covers with a snap of his fingers and stares back at his Master.

"Master needs to be waking up or he will be late for work."

Draco crosses his arms and glares at the wizened old elf who came barely up to his waist. And yet Chester didn’t flinch under the look he has been receiving since the young Malfoy had learnt how to walk. Instead, he stares back with an equally scathing look of his own.

Finally, after a few minutes of staring and eyebrow raising, Draco blinks his stinging eyes and snaps, "Fine. If you want to act like a barmy old elf, then so be it."

In response Chester chuckles and gets to work on setting the bed, "But Chester _is_ a barmy old elf."

(*)

It’s only when he reaches the office, that Draco remembers the stupid dare he agreed to the night before. For the life of him he can’t figure out why he goes drinking with Blaise? He always ends up agreeing to some sort of a dumb scheme and game.

"Good morning, old friend."

And speak of the devil.

"Get lost," Draco bites out, trying to look focussed and busy which is a little difficult seeing as he had just reached the office and he is taking off his coat.

Blaise chuckles and settles himself onto a chair in front of Draco’s desk, "What a bright little ray of sunshine you are! You always make my day better!"

Draco waves his wand and sends his inkpot hurtling towards Blaise’s head in reply.

"I get it, Merlin, no need to throw a tantrum so early in the morning," Blaise backs away towards the door, wisely facing Draco the entire time, "I just came to drop off the terms of the bet."

He points at the neatly folded parchment placed on Draco’s blotter and leaves while Draco turns his head to take a look at it; he vows to hunt down Blaise at the Department of Mysteries before the day ends.

Draco huffs and takes his time walking around his office fidgeting, picking up things and putting them down again. Even though a part of him is anxious to see who his supposed object of affection is going to be, a larger part of him doesn’t want to think about anyone else other than the man in the adjoining office, the reason his work life is so miserable.

Being in love with your boss really does suck away all the joy in working.

He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath. "You stayed in the same house as that lunatic, Draco and you survived. Surely anything else is easier than that."

With that pep talk he crosses to his chair and takes a seat, opening the parchment quickly before he has a chance to change his mind.

He scans down the customary list of waivers and such; Blaise likes to be prepared for all eventualities, and reaches the last line on the page, just above where his signature would be.

_I, Draco Malfoy, hereby agree to the terms of the dare accepted on the date of August 12th 2003, according to which I shall attempt to seduce and/or win over Mr Harry Potter within two weeks of the date of signing of this contract. Failure to do so gives Mr Blaise Zabini the right to ask for any possession belonging to me and vice versa._

"That little shit!" Draco curses, the parchment falling to the floor as he jumped to his feet, his fists clenched tight as he imagines choking Blaise with his hands.

_How could he have been so stupid as to fall for this?!_

Draco snarls and kicks his table, wincing at the pain that rushes through his foot. He’s busy jumping and cursing at the furniture when the little, inconspicuous box on his table buzzes and a deep, rough voice fills the room.

"Draco, can you step into my room for a minute? I have some memos I need you to send."

He hops on one foot towards his desk and presses the button to answer back, "Right away, Minister."

In barely a minute Draco’s outside his office, clothes and hair immaculate and face schooled into a blank expression as he knocks once on the large wooden door and enters the office.

The man seated behind the desk is busy reading a report Draco had left there the evening before. Draco softly walks across the large and extravagant Persian carpet that takes up most of the floor space to take a seat in front of the mahogany writing desk. He is the one who had ordered the carpet and the table, enjoying the chance to spend someone else’s money for a change. And Merlin knew the man who was busy reading was in dire need of some class and taste in his life.

Draco doesn’t fidget or move about like he would have years ago, impatient and furious at being made to wait. He’s used to it now as he knows that his boss doesn’t do it intentionally; mostly the man just gets so engrossed in his work that he forgets about everything else around him. But Draco also knows that sometimes he needs to remind the Minister about his presence and so he coughs once, a slight sound just loud enough to alert the other man to his presence.

"Ah, Draco, I didn’t notice you come in."

Draco quirks his lips, enough to pass as a polite smile as the youngest Minister in the history of the Ministry leans back in his chair and stretches, making his robes pull across his toned chest and giving Draco a good view of his neck and jawline.

Draco swallows around his dry throat and waits patiently as bright green eyes turn to him and Harry Potter smiles—his hair as messy as it was the first time Draco saw him and his smile so open that it still makes Draco’s breath hitch—even though he should be used to it by now. 

"Shall we get started?" Potter asks, leaning forward on his table, looking as excited as he had on his first day in this office.

Draco nods and opens his notepad, Quick Quotes Quill ready to take down notes, "Ready when you are, Minister."

As Potter starts talking about the memos to be sent and files to be reviewed Draco only has one thought in his head: he’s praying that Blaise won’t ask for his potion making set that had been a gift from Professor Snape.

 

(*)

 

"I’m doomed, Pansy," Draco whines slouching down on the sofa, as he looks up at his best friend through his fringe.

Pansy only rolls her eyes at him, as if she's used to his monthly declarations of impending doom.  He knows she is.

"What is it this time?" She hands him a crystal snifter of the whisky he prefers, ice clinking in the glass.

Draco glares at her as he accepts the drink, "You could show a little more compassion, you know?"

"Darling, the day I feel like you are in real danger of being doomed, I assure you that you will have my complete sympathies but until that day . . ." She trails off, taking a seat across on the chaise lounge across from Draco.

Draco chooses to hand her the contract from Blaise rather than having to explain his current pending doom.. He can see her eyes furrow in concentration as she reads down the parchment, her lips quirking at some of the ‘extreme’ clauses. He can also tell when she reaches the end by the frown marring her features and the pinched look to her face. When she looks up at him with something close to sympathy Draco chooses to avoid her gaze and instead stares at the tapestry adorning the wall opposite him with interest. 

"How did you fall for this?" Pansy asks with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Draco shakes his head miserably, opting to fall back down on his back with an exaggerated sigh, "That slimy bastard planned it out brilliantly." Draco knows that in other circumstances he would have been proud of Blaise’s cunning Slytherin skills.

"You would think that he wouldn’t feel the need to indulge in such games anymore, now that he was happy and <i>very much in love</i> with that Weasley." Pansy sniffs as she places the contract next to her. Draco knows that it had taken Pansy longer to get over the end of the short lived fling she had enjoyed with Blaise. Also, being passed over for a Weasley wasn’t what she’d been expecting.

"So," Pansy starts as she replenishes Draco’s glass with a wave of her wand, "what are you planning to do about it?"

"Nothing," Draco states and downs the drink in one go, wincing at the burn. "What? Don’t look at me like that; you know very well why I can’t do anything, Pans."

"Draco, you could try –"

"No, I can’t." Draco cuts her off, sitting up and placing his arms on his knees, his head bowed.

"What about the dare?"

"I couldn’t care less about it, I doubt Blaise would want anything of mine that is worth more than my ego." Draco runs his fingers through his hair, messing up the careful styling that takes him an hour in the morning to get right. "Or my self-esteem. I don’t take I could another hit to those."

"Draco." Pansy sighs, placing a hand on his arm as she moves to sit next to him.

Draco places his hand on top of hers and leans until his head on her shoulder, "The man hasn’t noticed me once in two years, Pans. I doubt I can do anything in two weeks."

Pansy squeezes Draco’s arm and whispers, "Blaise might ask for Chester."

"What?" Draco exclaims, looking up at Pansy in horror, "He can’t!"

She nods, holding onto Draco’s arm, "He mentioned it to me, a few weeks ago. And legally, Chester is a _possession,_ at least until Granger gets the House-Elf Free Rights Bill passed."

Draco can only stare at the tapestry in horror, too scared to even feel angry at Blaise. He’s had Chester since he was three and his mother had decided he needed an older house-elf to take care of him as he was scaring all the younger ones away. Chester had been the one to teach him how to cheat in Exploding Snap and hide his broccoli on his plate.

"He can’t have Chester," Draco states, frowning at the innocuous piece of parchment lying across from him, "I won’t let him."

"What else can you do?"

Draco sighs as he stands, fixing the creases in his trousers, "I don’t have an option then, do I? It means I will have to try because there’s no way I’m forfeiting."

"Draco," Pansy calls out as he moves towards the Floo. He stops, turning to look back at her. "Please be careful."

He nods and steps into the Floo.

Once he reaches home, the first thing Draco does is to find Chester and give him a hug, pulling the loudly protesting house-elf into his embrace and holding on tight.

"What are you doing? Let me go! I is knowing you Malfoy’s grow crazy but this is too soon!"

"I won’t let him take you, Chester!" Draco says, letting go only when he feels Chester’s bony elbows dig into his chest.

"Who?" Chester asks suspiciously, his eyes narrowed as he feels Draco’s forehead with the back of his hand.

Draco shakes his hand off and falls back on his knees, "Doesn’t matter. What’s important is that he won’t take you."

Chester mutters something under his breath, then eventually says, "Come now, Master, how about we get you settled in bed and then I can call Healer Way and he can take a look at you?"

Draco feels exhausted after the long day of emotional upheavals and lets himself be pulled to his room and tucked into bed as if he was ten again. Chester smoothes down the covers around him and it makes Draco’s throat feel tight, something inside him clenching at the thought of having to give Chester away and it only strengthens his resolve to fight back.

It’s at that moment that there’s a knock on his window.  Draco looks up to see Pansy’s handsome tawny owl, Beatrice, at the window. Draco’s debating the merits of sleeping early versus starting on his scheming when Chester drops what appears to be a rolled up magazine on his lap. He unrolls it to find a small note attached to the cover. It says,

_Draco, there’s something on page number twenty three that might interest you._

_Love, Pansy_

Draco turns to the mentioned page and finds himself staring at a full page picture of his boss. Harry looks every bit the Minister he is, stern and imposing with his jaw set and eyes blazing but if you know where to look it’s easy to spot the softness in his expression, the way his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners.

Draco swallows; his throat suddenly feels dry. It’s only Chester entering the room again that has him paying attention to the title of the article.

_"What does the Minister for Magic look for in his ideal partner?"_

Draco remembers that interview, how much Potter hadn’t wanted to give it, but Granger had insisted on it, saying it would be for his image. So Potter had agreed, only on the condition that he’d choose the magazine and interviewer. Draco remembers scoffing on hearing that Lovegood would be the one taking the interview but Potter had been adamant and Draco’s job was only to arrange things for Potter and make his life run smoother.

He doesn’t remember the interview, per se. He had been too busy enjoying the sight of Potter laughing and joking around with Lovegood. A part of him is rolling his eyes at the fact that Pansy thought this would be helpful. But another, larger, part thinks this is perfect. He doesn’t know where to start from, clearly whatever he’s been doing for the past two years hasn’t been working.

He settles back onto his pillows and starts reading, calling out to Chester, "Bring me some tea, Chester. It looks like I have a long night ahead of me."

 

(*)

 

"Is Master ready to leave?" Chester asks from the door to Draco’s bedroom, eyeing his Master fixing his hair. Again, for the tenth time in five minutes.

Draco nods distractedly.  "Just a minute, I need to get this right."

He can hear Chester mutter as he leaves the room and Draco knows he’s probably acting ridiculously, fixating so much over his appearance. But he only has two weeks to do this and he can’t afford to waste a day.

He has read the article over and over again.  He read it until he fell asleep holding it. Waking up to find Potter's face just inches from his own had been disconcerting, to say the least. He refused to dwell on the feelings it evoked and focused instead on the plan he had begun formulating last night before falling asleep.

Potter talked in great detail about the qualities he wanted in his future partner and the more Draco read, the more depressed he got realising he had almost none of the aforementioned personality traits.

_"I would like to be with someone who is funny, who can make me laugh even after a bad day at work."_

He’s not kind or honest or funny. At least not the kind of funny _Potter_ would find funny. Draco sighs and gives his hair a final look nodding when he’s satisfied with it. He doesn’t need to worry about his physical appearance, he knows he looks good, but it is more about making sure Potter notices how good he looks.

He has taken great care in choosing his clothes this morning, more so than usual. Generally he would just throw on a robe and head for work. Today, he spent an hour agonising over his trousers and how well they accentuated his body. He can feel Chester judging him from the doorway but Draco knows he has only fourteen days to get this right or Chester can spend the rest of his life polishing Blaise’s many Italian boots.

By the time Draco arrives at the Ministry, he's only five minutes ahead of schedule, as compared to his usual fifteen minutes. This has left him with barely enough time to place Potter's tea on his desk before the man himself arrived.

At the last minute Draco decides to work on his "niceness" and adds a note to the tray. It reads: _Have a good day, Minister._

By the time he reaches his office, Draco’s already regretting the decision. He’s not a lovesick fool, leaving notes like that! He hurries back to Potter's office only to find the man seated behind the desk, the note in his hand. Draco watches with wide eyes as Potter reads the note. He’s positive that any moment now his boss will throw away the note and call Draco into his office; probably to fire him.

To his surprise Potter's lips quirk in a gentle smile as he reads the note and then carefully places it in a drawer in his desk.

_Huh_ , Draco thinks, _this being nice thing has some merit after all._

He decides to try it again during lunch which is when Weasley comes up from his office on the fourth floor to have lunch with Potter. Usually Draco heads off to the cafeteria before he can run into Weasley and/or Granger-Weasley but today he waits until the last minute.

As he comes face to face with the man while leaving Potter's office Draco says, loudly, "Looking good today, Weasley."

The look on Weasley’s face is priceless enough to make up for Draco having to be nice to him.

Lunch is uneventful and boring like usual, he mostly eats alone, having never bothered enough to reach out to the other people working in the Minister’s office and Blaise’s reluctance to interact with other Ministry workers outside his department.

It’s as he’s waiting for the elevator that Draco wonders if maybe now is a good time to start reaching out to the other people he works with. After all, isn’t that what being nice is all about?

He smiles at Winters from the DMLE as he exits the elevator, the man stares, shocked and trips over his own robes to fall face first to the floor. Draco finds it very difficult to keep his laughter contained but he tries.

Bones, from Potter's media staff, is the last person to get in, and Draco nods at her as she comes to stand next to him.

"How’s it going?" he asks, attempting polite conversation. He doesn’t think they’ve talked even once in the two years that they’ve been a part of the Minister's staff.

Bones stares at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion but Draco only blinks back at her calmly. She takes her time in replying, they’ve stopped twice to let off half the people in the elevator before she says, "Not bad, I would have liked a few more days off but you know how it is."

It’s a test, Draco knows it is. She’s testing him to see if he’s really interested in talking to her or if it’s just a onetime thing. A nice person would know when their co-worker just had a baby and would then ask about it.

"Yes, it is difficult I’m sure," Draco tries for a sympathetic expression but he’s not sure he succeeds, "how is the little one?"

Bones looks shocked, like she didn’t expect Draco to know that and Draco adds a point to his mental tally of " _Nice things Draco Malfoy has done today"_.

He feels he should get at least fifty for talking to Weasley.

As they exit to their floor, Draco’s feeling decidedly more confident in his plan of action. The feeling continues until it’s almost the end of day and Harry stops him as Draco’s about to leave his office.

"Draco?"

Draco looks up from where he’d been sorting through his notes to prioritise his work for the next day.

"Yes?" He prompts when Potter seems more interested in staring at him.

Potter shakes his head, looking weird, like he's embarrassed, and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?" Draco tries not to get angry at the question. Nice people don’t angry when they’re asked about their health.

"Oh, no reason." Potter starts to fiddle with the papers on his desk, and Draco frowns. He’ll have to rearrange everything again tomorrow morning. "It’s just," Potter continues, talking to the wall behind Draco, "I heard some things today and I was just wondering  . . ." He trails off as Draco’s face pales.

Draco’s too scared to be worried about maintaining a neutral expression; he needs this job, it’s not like he has any other source of income.

"It’s nothing bad, Ron and Susan had a few questions, that’s it," Potter reassures. "Just, are you sure you’re okay?" he asks, again, taking in Draco’s expression.

Draco straightens the papers in his lap and stands, "Yes, I am. Is that all, Minister?"

He _can’t_ believe it. Those stupid imbeciles, they aren’t worth Draco being nice to them.

Potter nods, leaning back into his chair as Draco walks out, his back stiff and head held high. It’s only as the door closes that Draco lets himself scowl, his fingers itching to pull out his wand and hex someone.

As Draco heads towards the Floo in the atrium he snaps at two passing interns. It’s as he’s stepping into the Floo that Draco catches sight of Weasley who’s looking at him with a faintly relieved expression.

Draco steps out of the Floo and tosses his coat to the floor, cursing and muttering the entire while. This isn’t working. Being nice is too taxing and no one appreciates it.

He snaps at Chester and locks himself up in his room.

Draco needs to re-evaluate his plan.

 

(*)

 

The next day, Draco wakes up earlier than usual. He made the decision last night that adding a little bit of physical activity to his daily routine won’t harm him, and really, it’s not even only because Potter wants a partner who likes to stay fit and healthy. Though, seriously, Potter's one to talk. Draco knows for a fact that Potter _hates_ exercising and if he could, he would only eat fish and chips. No, Draco’s decision to partake in a healthy lifestyle comes after the horror of finding that his leather trousers don’t fit him as well as they did a few months ago.

He still remembers how his scream of terror had made Chester Apparate into his room ready for battle.

So now here he is, dressed up and ready to go. Draco won’t ever admit it out loud to anyone but he actually _likes_ wearing Muggle clothes. Unlike wizards, Muggles know that their best assets are meant to be flaunted and not hidden behind layers of shapeless robes.

"Chester," Draco calls as he finishes lacing up his jogging shoes.

The house-elf _Apparates_ outside the room and knocks once before entering, at Draco’s look he explains, "I is done seeing the young master in no clothes. Chester will knock always from now."

"Why aren’t you ready?" Draco asks, eyeing Chester’s tea cosy. "Or are you coming like that? I must say, it’s a bold decision, what with the wind and you not having any pants but . . ."

He trails off at Chester’s blank expression.

"For jogging," he adds helpfully. When the house elf still stares at him, Draco elaborates, "We’re going jogging! Come on!"

"Chester is not going jogging." Chester laughs, bony arms crossed across his chest.

Draco stands and fixes his t shirt, admiring his profile in the mirror. "Of course you are. I’m not going alone. What if I get bored?"

"Master is going to exercise, not to a birthday party where he has no friends."

" _Chester,_ " Draco exclaims, "I thought I told you not to mention that ever again. And it was only once; after all I met Blaise and Pansy there. And four year olds throw such boring parties."

"Then Master can be calling his friends, Chester is not going."

Draco glares at Chester, Chester stares back. It’s a game they’ve had since Draco was three and refused to go to bed on time. And just like the first time, Draco is the first one to blink. Chester bows, not bothering to hide his smile and leaves the room with a <i>pop</i>, narrowly missing the sock Draco throws at him.

Draco takes a deep breath as he steps out of his apartment complex. The clean and fresh air helps him shake away the last hold of sleep that was clinging to him. He crosses the road to enter Hyde Park. If there’s one thing he’s grateful to his father for, it’s the flat that he lives in now. Who knew Lucius Malfoy had property even in Muggle London?

Draco knows his father had probably bought it as a sign of power. He can just about imagine him in his study, snifter of brandy in his hand as he cackled about the power he held over Muggles. Draco shakes his head and stretches, whatever the reason; he has a house to live in and no rent to worry about.

The best part though, is that he’s not close to the wizarding quarter in the city. He’s near enough that distance isn’t an inconvenience but he’s removed enough that chances of running into other magical folk are none at best.

Unfortunately, he has to review his opinion just five minutes later.

He’s enjoying himself; the burn in his calves and thighs feels good. As he turns onto a path, Draco stops dead in his tracks on seeing a familiar head of black hair coming towards him from the other side.

Thankfully, Potter hasn’t seen him yet. He’s running with his eyes lowered and he has one of those Muggle devices, the ones that play music in his ears. Draco takes a moment to drink in the sight of his boss's lean body drenched in sweat; his hair sticking to his neck instead of flying about like it’s prone to do.

Potter is wearing the type of tracksuit bottoms that frame his legs beautifully and Draco finds himself hard pressed to stop staring.  But he manages and turns around, going back up the path that he came from. He can hear his name being called from the back but Draco doesn’t stop. He makes himself run faster, passing by people as his chest aches. Finally, when his legs can’t take it anymore Draco collapses onto a bench, his arms on his knees and his head bent as he tries to catch his breath.

When a shadow falls on him Draco knows without a doubt who it is.

"Why did you run away?"

Draco looks up to see Potter standing in front of him, his chest heaving.

"I didn’t run away. That would imply I saw you but I didn’t. I was simply running."

Potter stares at him; eye’s hidden behind his glasses.

"Budge over," Potter demands, before sitting down next to Draco on the bench. This close, their arms are almost touching. Draco’s confused as to why he isn’t feeling more repulsed at the thought of Potter's sweaty arm touching his.

"So," Potter starts, when they’ve spent ten minutes in silence, staring at the people around them. "What brings you to Hyde Park?"

Draco wonders if calling his boss an idiot to his face can get him sacked.

Thankfully, Potter corrects himself before Draco can, "I mean, besides the jogging aspect. Do you live nearby?"

Draco nods. Of course Potter doesn’t know where he lives. But Draco, for a fact, knows where Potter lives and it’s not anywhere near the park, which prompts him to ask, "Are there no parks near your house, Minister?"

Potter frowns at him; it looks oddly endearing outside the office. "Draco," he starts and his tone scarily similar to the one Chester uses when he thinks Draco’s acting like an idiot, "you can call me Harry you know?"

"No, I can’t," Draco answers patiently, " _You_ are my boss. It’s not professional."

Potter shrugs. "Well, technically, being the Minister of Magic makes me the boss to quite a lot of people. And yet, only half of them call me Minister all the time."

Draco has a number of replies to that, but all of them involve curses and choice expressions for Potter's house and basically everyone who is not a Slytherin. So he wisely opts to stay silent. Potter though, doesn’t seem to like the quiet and goes on, "And in answer to your question, I like seeing the ducks."

That makes Draco turn to look at him finally and finds Potter smiling as he watches a passing duck. Draco has to admit, he finds their waddle really funny and he _might_ have, once or twice, visited the park just to see the ducks.

He checks the time on his watch and stands up, looking back down at Potter, "I should head back; I wouldn’t want to be late for work. My boss can be a real stickler about time."

Potter smiles, he’s _never_ been on time once since the day he took office.

"Sounds like a barmy old git to me."

Draco laughs, once, before controlling his expression but seeing the look on Potter's face he doesn’t mind that he slipped. "That he is, I just hope he remembers that he has a nine o’clock breakfast with the Swedish Minister."

Potter swears and jumps to his feet, looking at his watch.

Draco starts off down the path, in the opposite direction from him. But as Draco starts up on a slow jog he can’t help but call back, "See you at the office, Harry."

 

(*)

 

"I need new clothes."

Draco’s head is buried under a pile of robes that he dumped on his bed in search for the perfect one. He has yet to find it.

"Master be buying new clothes last month. You is telling Chester to remind you that you cannot buy new clothes for a year." Chester reminds him as he folds the clothes that have flung to the floor.

"Oh, bugger that," Draco laughs in triumph as he pulls out a wrinkled blue robe from under the pile and examines it critically before throwing it behind him. It hits Chester right on the face.

"I can’t hope to make him notice me if I don’t look good."

"Make who notice you?"

Draco jumps at the voice and turns, "Blaise! How did you get in?"

Blaise is leaning against the doorway, eyeing the mess in Draco’s room with a smirk. "Got a hot date tonight?"

Draco throws the blue robes at Chester’s feet, waiting for his nod to see if he understood. Once that’s done he places one hand on Blaise’s chest and pushes him out, closing the door behind the two of them.

Instead of answering Blaise’s question, Draco asks again, "How did you get in? The Floo's locked."

"Do you really think I won’t know how to unlock your Floo?" Blaise snorts, helping himself to some whisky from a decanter in the living room.

Draco curses, he really should change the locks on his Floo seeing as he has had the same ones since the year the war ended.

"So, who is the lucky guy?"

Draco scowls; he knows how persistent Blaise can be.

"It’s _not_ a date," Draco states, stealing the glass from Blaise and taking sip. "My boss needed me to accompany him to an event, that’s all."

"So you’re going with Harry Potter to the charity gala."

Draco takes another sip and chooses not to respond.

Blaise, the uncouth arse, decides to keep talking. "Well, I’m genuinely worried now."

That makes Draco stare. Why the fuck is Blaise scared?

"Why the fuck are you scared?" Draco asks, pouring Blaise a drink.

Blaise accepts the glass and takes a seat on Draco’s sofa, his feet stretched out in front of him. "I had my heart set on getting Chester."

What. Oh. _Oh_.

"I knew it!" Draco exclaims, pointing imperiously at Blaise. "You’ve been eyeing my Chester forever."

Draco tries to ignore the fact that he had completely forgotten about the bet. This isn’t the first time Harry’s asked Draco to accompany him on to a gala or charity fundraiser. Even though being Minister for Magic means that Harry has no shortage of people lining up to go out with him it also means there no shortage of people who are willing to use Harry for his name and title.

In the two years that Draco has worked for Harry he can count on his fingers the number of times Harry has gone out on a date. More often than not he asks his friends – the female Weasley, Granger-Weasley to accompany him to such events. Or Draco.

It’s the first time Draco’s realised that maybe Harry counts him as a friend.

"—and he can cook a mean quiche. Not to mention he has impeccable taste in wine—"

Draco raises his hand to stop Blaise, who’s been busy listing out all of Chester’s qualities while Draco was busy thinking about Harry.

"Well, as amazing as Chester is, you can’t have him."

"Forfeit means I still get him, you know that right?" Blaise asks.

Draco nods irritably, "Of course I do. Don’t worry, I _will_ win this. There’s no way you’re getting Chester. Now, leave. Go mooch off someone else's fine liquor selection." ~~."~~

"Tsk tsk, Draco. However would your mother feel if she saw you treating a guest like this?"

It’s only years of being at the firing end of Draco’s wand that has trained Blaise in knowing when to duck which is how he misses the hex.

"You have ten seconds."

By the time Draco reaches the door to the sitting room he can hear the Floo close behind him.

It’s only later that night, when Harry’s shaken hands with the crème de la crème of society and posed for about a hundred photographs that Draco realises that there’s nothing different between this night and the other boring social events that Draco has accompanied Harry to.

But it’s the first time that he’s noticed that Harry treats him differently when they are out of the office. Little things like trying to include him in conversations, when at work he mostly lets Draco be.  Or making a point to introduce Draco to people around them, not as _Draco Malfoy, my assistant_  but just as Draco Malfoy; as if that in itself is something to be proud of.

The real difference though is in the way Draco feels around Harry. He’s never noticed it before, maybe because he was too busy trying to blend into the background and stare inconspicuously at Harry’s arse but now he’s more aware of the man standing next to him. He can feel the heat from Harry’s body as they stand next to each other; feel Harry’s hand on his back as he’s steered towards their table. A part of him wonders if maybe Harry has always been this way with him and he’s been too busy hiding to notice it.

Another part of him helpfully points out that he should use this to his advantage.

So Draco plays up the part. He leans into Harry’s hand and finds way to stand closer to him. He makes it a point to catch Harry’s gaze and hold it. He didn’t count on his actions having an adverse effect on him, too.

Harry’s hand is warm, the heat searing through Draco’s robes and the look in his eyes makes Draco want to blush. He’s not used to Harry looking at him like this, and it’s all new and exciting. It makes Draco want to play, have some fun with this new discovery.

It makes him want to forget about the stupid bet and wait to see where this goes.

As Harry drops him to his flat late that night, Draco places his hand on Harry’s arm, stopping him as he was turning to leave.

Without a word he leans forward and kisses Harry, an innocent brush of lips against the late night stubble on Harry’s cheek that makes Draco want to go back for more. But he restrains himself and pulls back, smiling softly at Harry before opening the door and stepping inside.

"Good night, Harry."

Draco can’t sleep that night, he keeps tossing and turning and replaying the smile on Harry’s face as Draco had closed the door.

 

(*)

 

It’s at ten in the morning when he gets the Floo-call. Being a Sunday, Draco is happily catching up on his sleep, with Chester having strict orders to not try and wake Draco before noon.

This is why when Chester does enter his room and try to wake him up, Draco growls and throws a pillow at him. Unfortunately for him, Chester has years of dealing with Malfoy tantrums.

With a snap of his fingers, Chester makes the curtains pull back and with another snap he has made the covers pull themselves off Draco and fold neatly at the foot of the bed.

"Chester," Draco wines, hiding his face under the pillow. "Go away!"

"There is being a Floo-call, it is Harry Potter for Master Draco.”."

Draco sits up with a start, looking around him wildly until he spots the house-elf standing next to the door.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter," Chester repeats, slowly and clearly. "He is saying it is important."

Draco curses and jumps off the bed, pulling on his dressing gown as he hurries out the door. It’s only when he’s halfway down the stairs that he realises he’s _just_ got out of bed and he probably looks like a mess. He stops outside the sitting room to cast a breath freshening charm and runs his fingers through his hair.

He walks into the room and sits on the rug in front of the fireplace, waiting while Harry finishes talking to whoever is behind him.

"Hi," Harry says, his face flickering in the flames.

Draco runs his fingers through his hair again; aware of how messy they look. "Hi."

"So, I know it’s the weekend and you don’t have to work on the weekends but, and I’m really sorry about this and you know that I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t important but—"

"Harry," Draco interrupts him with a laugh, pulling up his legs to hug his knees and rest his chin on them, "Breathe."

Harry laughs and even through the fire Draco can see him blush, it makes something inside Draco melt at the fact that he can make the Minister for Magic blush like a teenager.

"Now, tell me what’s wrong and I’ll come fix it."

Harry smirks, "Awfully sure of your skills, aren’t you?"

"I’ve worked for you for a year, Harry." Draco says, as if that’s answer enough and judging by Harry’s smile, it is.

"So, can you come in?"

Draco nods, "Sure. Give me an hour though, I just woke up."

"I can see that," Harry says, eyeing Draco’s red flannel pyjamas.

Draco sniffs, brushing non-existent lint off his knees, "They’re comfortable."

"I’m sure they are." Harry nods. He’s about to end the call when he calls out, "Breakfast is on me if you can bring the coffee."

He reaches the office in a little under an hour. As he steps out of the Floo, Draco fidgets with the sleeves on his cardigan, pulling them down and gripping the edges with his fingers. He’s never worn Muggle clothing to the Ministry before. But he figures that since it’s the weekend he can maybe make an exception; and it’s not like Harry hasn’t seen him in Muggle clothes. They’ve gone running together for almost a week now, except for that one day when Draco decided to sleep in and Harry teased him about it for an entire day. They don’t talk much but the act of jogging together and then looking at the ducks for a few minutes is enough to make mornings fun for Draco.

When he steps into Harry’s office Draco fails to suppress a curse. It looks like a Hippogriff ran rampant through the room and there are pieces of parchment everywhere. Draco sags against the doorway, a hand on his chest as he feels his heart ache at the thought of his filing system ruined. All those meticulously placed files, that Draco organised based on their date, department, clearance _and_ title. 

"What happened here?" he chokes out, rubbing his hand on his chest; _it hurts so bad._

From within a mountain of parchments, a messy head of black hair pokes out. To his credit, Harry looks terrified and Draco feels a certain sense of vindication. _At least he knows he’s not getting out of cleaning this_ , Draco thinks.

"Okay, before you freak out I need you to know that I will help you clean this up," Harry starts, he moves his hand and makes more parchments slide down from the mountain. At Draco’s scowl Harry freezes, his hand half raised. "I just thought I would get started before you got here and I needed a file but I didn’t know where to find it —"

"Stop," Draco cuts him off. "Please, for the love of all that is holy, do not say that you decided to Accio the file and that even if you did, you clearly mentioned the file number _or_ title."

Harry blinks at him. "What?"

Draco resists the urge to strangle his boss. Not only would that count as an assassination attempt on the Minister of Magic _but_  that would also mean wading through the pile of parchments and he doesn’t think he can do that without inhaling at least four cups of coffee with liberal shots of whiskey.

By the time the clock strikes five, they’ve only managed to clear up half the room and Draco’s mood has only become worse. Harry is careful not to touch too many parchments and he’s been sitting in the corner, going through the _correct_ files that Draco located for him within a minute.

"That’s it, I need a break."

Draco carefully places the file down and stretches, wincing at the burn in his legs as he stands up after hours spent on the floor. The office resembles an office again, with most of the parchments now stacked in corners according to their clearance. Now they need to be sorted according to their department and date.

"I knew there was a reason I hired you," Harry says, looking around his office in awe.

Draco snorts, charming the stacks so that they can’t be disturbed. "For my stellar parchment sorting skills?"

"No." Harry shakes his head as he leans back against the wall. Dressed in dark jeans and a blue jumper he looks nothing like the politician the papers make him out to be. "I hired you because I knew you would give it your best."

"Of course, being a secretary is what I would be best at."

"That’s not what I said." Harry leans forward, the V neck jumper sliding down as he does so. Draco tries hard to not to stare at the little hint of collarbones that are visible. "You’re worth much more than this job and you know it. And yet, you work harder than everybody else in this office."

Draco shrugs, averting his eyes from Harry’s neck, "I need this job and it’s not half bad. Being secretary to the Minister of Magic has its perks."

Harry smiles, "I’m sure it does. Are up for dinner? My treat, seeing as how we’ve been stuck here all day because of me."

"Now how can I refuse that? Not everyone can say they’ve been invited to dinner by the Minister of Magic."

"No," Harry says, moving till he’s standing right in front of Draco, "not everyone gets invited. Do you think you’re up for it?"

Draco swallows and nods.

 

(*)

 

"So, I heard you went out for dinner with Potter last night?" Pansy asks, sipping delicately from her cup of tea.

They’re at their usual Monday lunch spot; a quaint little café nestled into a corner of Diagon Alley that’s far enough from the main street to not be crowded even at this time of day. They’ve been having these weekly lunches since the day Pansy got her job at the  _Prophet_ , as week after Draco was hired by the Minister of Magic. Harry. At one point of time Blaise used to join them too, until the busy life of an Auror caught up with him and he started using the lunch hours to catch up on sleep. Even though he isn’t a trainee anymore, Blaise prefers to spend lunch hours with other Aurors, "Keeping up with office politics," as he calls it.

Not that Draco minds, after their break up, Blaise and Pansy maintain a kind of awkward politeness around each other that gives Draco a headache.

Draco looks up at Pansy’s question. He carefully butters his scone and takes his time chewing and following it with a sip of tea before answering.

"You heard correctly."

The annoyance on Pansy’s face makes up for people gossiping about him, though it does make sense. He had dinner with the Minister of Magic who also happens to be the bloody Saviour of the wizarding world.

He had told Harry they should have gone to some place more...low key. But no, the great idiot had insisted on going to the newly opened restaurant near Gringotts, where of course the reporters had found them.

He’d seen the pictures in the paper that morning. Chester had been delighted to come barging as soon as the paper had arrived to show it to Draco. The batty old elf had been delighted to see a picture of his Master on the newspaper. When Draco had been leaving for work, Chester had been busy cutting out the picture from the paper.

"And?" Pansy prompts, slapping Draco’s hand away as he moves it to take another bite from his scone.

"You crazy old hag!" Draco exclaims, nursing his bruised hand. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing _but_ there will be something seriously wrong with you if you don’t tell me what happened," Pansy says, smiling at the old ladies seated at the table next to theirs who had turned to stare at Draco’s shout.

Draco shoots Pansy a dark look and picks up his cup, "Nothing happened. We went out to dinner, which he owed me for, by the way, for making me work all day long on a Sunday. Then he dropped me home."

"And?" Pansy tries again, the hopeful look on her face makes Draco want to make something up.

Then his hand hurts and he says, "Well, once I got home, Chester and I did play a scintillating game of Exploding Snap. That was fun."

"Draco Malfoy, are you telling me you didn’t fuck your boss?" Pansy all but shouts, the ladies around them gasp and turn to stare.  "Oh, mind your own fucking business," she snaps, making them mutter and shake their heads.

"Must you be so crude, darling?" Draco asks as he smiles into his tea.

Pansy waves the waiter as he comes to ask if they would like a refill, "And must _you_ be such a prude. What is wrong with you? There’s only six days left before you loose and Blaise gets Chester. Or have you forgotten?"

"No," Draco says mulishly, "I haven’t, I’m just waiting for the right moment."

Except, last night _had_ seemed like the right moment; Harry had lingered as Draco had opened the door, waiting until Draco had turned to say goodbye to pull him closer and then snog the life out of him. It had been brilliant, Draco was been convinced that he had the bet in the bag until he’d walked into the office this morning.

Like always, Harry smiled at the note Draco left but he hadn’t once mentioned the kiss, even though they were working together in Harry’s office to get the mess cleared up.

Draco didn’t know what he felt more hurt about – falling behind on the bet or Harry not mentioning the kiss.

"Draco," Pansy states, pulling him back to the present, "you don’t have to make him fall in love with you, all you need is one good fuck and you win. How difficult is that?"

Draco shrugs and picks at his scone.

"I told you this was a bad idea," she whispers, placing her hand on Draco’s arm, "you should have just pulled out at the start. Blaise can be reasonable sometimes, I’m sure he would have agreed."

Draco sighs and looks out the window, watching the people walk by. Diagon Alley took a long time getting back to the way it was before the war. Even now, some nights the alleys lie abandoned. All it takes is one rumour.

It starts raining, making people run to hide under awnings and use their shopping bags as makeshift umbrellas, leaving Draco to wonder if someone up there is mocking him.

 

(*)

 

"And make sure this reaches the International Owl Desk before closing, it needs to reach the Hungarian Minister’s office by tonight. Do you understand?"

The intern nods, face pale as she looks up at Draco who’s standing in front of her.

"I _don’t_ want a repeat of last month. Need I remind you that your report lies in my hands? And this is most certainly not acceptable work."

She swallows and reaches out for the letter, flinching when Draco places it in her hand.

"What are you waiting for? Go!" 

As she’s walking out, Harry enters Draco’s office. He frowns as the shaking girl passes him; Draco takes one look at Harry’s face and calls out, "Have a good day!"

The girl almost runs down the corridor till she turns the corner.

"Can I help you?" Draco asks coolly, cursing himself for falling back into the pattern of trying to impress Harry.

Harry turns to look at him, his brow furrowed as he frowns, "Were you scaring interns again?"

"I was merely reminding her of her responsibilities." Draco sits back down at his desk and starts sorting out the memos to be sent.

"You can do that politely too, you know."

Draco scowls at the note in his hand. "I can, but this is more effective."

"Draco." He hears Harry sigh as he's leaning forward in the chair. "What’s the matter?"

"Nothing, I’m just busy finishing some work. Was there anything you wanted, Minister?" Draco asks. He can feel Harry staring at him but he refuses to look at the man. It’s only when Harry stands that Draco lifts his gaze from the papers on his blotter.

Harry’s frowning and there’s something in the way he’s holding himself that makes Draco want to reach out and smooth his hands across Harry’s shoulders.

"No, I didn’t want anything. Thank you, Draco."

As the door closes behind him, Draco slumps in his chair with one hand running through his hair in agitation.

Why did he ever think this would be a good idea?

Starting back on the memos Draco decides there’s nothing else for it. He has to go see Blaise tonight.

Three hours later, finds him leaning in front of his Floo, waiting for Blaise to answer.

"Hi."

Draco smiles stiffly, his heart already sinking. If the female Weasley has come over then the chances of Blaise listening to him are almost none.

"Hello," Draco greets her politely, "is Blaise there?"

"He’s in the shower, can I take a message?"

Draco tightens his grip on his knees, his knuckles turning white, "Just, can you ask him to call me back once he’s done?"

The Weasley nods, her red hair flopping around her face, "Sure." She smiles as the Floo closes.

Draco falls back on his heels and leans his head forward, his hair brushes against his cheek.

Taking a deep breath he calls out, "Chester!"

He’d rather spend their last few hours together doing something they both love.

 

(*)

 

"And that’s check and then mate."

Draco growls and resists the urge to flip the chessboard over. Chester is staring at him smugly from the other side of the board, his wrinkled face pulled into a smile.

"Oh, shut it," Draco snaps as he rests the board with a flick of his wand.

"Is Master needing a break?"

"No." Draco huffs petulantly, glaring at his house elf.

As Chester moves his pawn the Floo chimes, making Draco and Chester turn to look at the fireplace. The fire flares once, bright green and purple, and once it dies down Blaise steps out of it.

"Blaise," Draco greets him with a nod, not bothering to stand.

Blaise brushes non-existent soot off his sleeves and smiles at Draco, "You called? Ginny said you seemed pretty agitated."

Draco lets Chester leave with a wave of his hand; the house-elf clears out the chess table, and departs. Draco waits until Blaise has taken a seat next to him on the sofa; his leg is almost vibrating with nervous energy.

"What’s going on, Draco?" Blaise asks, placing a hand on Draco’s leg.

Draco wanted to draw it out, explain himself. Instead he ends up blurting, "I give up."

"Give up on what?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow and stares down at Draco in confusion.

"The bet, you idiot!"

Blaise blinks. "You’re joking, right?"

"Of course I’m not," Draco snaps, turning away from Blaise.

"Then, _why?"_ Blaise jumps up from the sofa, eyes wide as he takes in Draco’s hunched posture.

Draco curls further into himself, "I think it’s the best course of action, that’s why."

"Bullshit. Tell me the real reason why."

"I don’t have to tell you anything," Draco shouts, standing up as well. He looks Blaise in the eyes as he says, "You know how important Chester is to me, he’s the only link to my family, _my entire childhood._ You don’t get to ask me to tell you anything."

Draco pushes past Blaise and heads towards the door, where he turns and states, "You can see yourself out."

Blaise stays standing in Draco's sitting room, his expression shocked. He barely moves when Chester Apparates in.

He turns towards the house-elf, who’s staring at him with watery eyes.

"We’ve cocked this up, haven’t we?"

Chester can only nod.

 

(*)

 

Draco smiles tightly at the bouncer standing in-guard in front of Harlequin. The man nods back and opens the door for Draco, ignoring the cursing of the people who’ve been standing in line for an hour.

Draco looks around the club with an odd sense of detachment. He doesn’t know what he’s doing there; all he knows is that he can’t stay at home anymore. Being the coward that he is, Draco hadn’t even left his room, he’d Apparated straight to an alley near the club. If he doesn’t check, he can almost pretend that Chester is still in the house.

Ignoring the heated looks being sent his way, Draco heads towards the bar. He knows he’s being watched, he knows it’s only a matter of time before someone approaches him looking for a quick fuck. Once upon a time Draco wouldn’t have hesitated, even today he had left the house with the sole purpose of picking up a one night stand. He was wearing his best pair of leather trousers, the ones that could only be charmed on because they didn’t have zippers or buttons.

And yet, now that he is here, all Draco wants is to go back home and hide in bed. He lost the bet, gave away Chester, and Harry’s not interested in him.

How much worse could the night get?

He is on his third shot of Firewhisky when a hand grabs his shoulder and turns him around. Draco’s ready to hex the balls off whoever dared to do that and he stops mid curse when he sees Harry standing in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asks, staring at Harry with wide eyes.

Harry looks Draco up and down; he crosses his arms across his chest and shoots back, "I could ask you the same thing."

Before Draco can answer, he feels an arm come around his waist and pull him back against a strong chest. A deep voice whispers in his ear, "Would you like to have some fun?"

Once again Draco finds himself unable to answer as Harry grabs Draco’s arm and pulls him closer, "He’s with me so fuck off."

The man glares at Harry and turns to Draco, "Is that so?"

Draco nods numbly; his mind off kilter by the feel of Harry’s arms wrapped around his waist, the grip tight enough to bruise. He can feel the beat from the music in the club thrumming through his bones, making every nerve ending in his body feel alive with electricity.

It’s only when the man leaves that Draco remembers what Harry had said and he pushes himself free from Harry’s grip.

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco bites out, the last thing he’s worried about right now is his job.

Harry grabs hold of his arm before he can push through the crowd and get away, "No. We are going to talk about this because I just had Blaise and a house-elf come visit me and I would like some answers."

"What?" Draco freezes in his attempts to get away.

"Come on," Harry says, instead of answering him. He pulls Draco through the crowd, his glare enough to make people part easily. The sense of raw power Harry’s emitting is more than enough to make Draco feel weak in the knees.

As they exit the club into the alley Draco takes in deep breaths, the cool air refreshing after the stifling heat in the overcrowded room.

"My place or yours?" Harry asks, still holding onto Draco’s arm.

Draco starts, looking up at him in shock, "What?"

"We need to talk and I’d rather do it someplace comfortable. So, my place or yours?"

"Yours." Draco would rather put off going back to that empty house for as long as he can.

Harry nods and steps closer, pulling Draco to him until they’re standing with their chests pressed together, Harry’s gaze never wavering as he looks into Draco’s eyes and turns them.

Draco’s been to Harry’s house before, many times but never so late at night and never dressed the way he is right now, looking like he's ready for a hook up. He can tell that Harry’s noticed too, if the way his eyes linger on Draco’s leather clad legs is any indication.

"Tea, coffee, water?" Harry asks, moving towards the open kitchen on their left.

Draco shakes his head and takes a seat at the kitchen island; his legs are shaking too much for him to stand.

"Vodka? Firewhisky?" Harry tries instead, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Draco snorts, "I’d rather stay away from alcohol for a while, that’s what got me in this mess in the first place."

He can see the way Harry’s jaw tightens at those words, the grip on his mug becoming dangerously stronger.

"Yes," Harry starts, taking a seat opposite Draco, "Blaise mentioned something about alcohol and a bet. Care to explain?"

Draco taps his fingers against the cool marble, his eyes fixed on the pattern of the grain, "I’d rather not, actually."

"You don’t really have an option, you see because when if this was some elaborate ploy to humiliate me by breaking my heart then --"

"Breaking your heart?" Draco exclaims, "When did your heart get broken? When you ignored me at work? Or wait, when you acted like _nothing_ at all had happened?"

"I thought that’s what you wanted!"

" _I wanted?_ That’s rich, first you don’t notice me for two years and then you go around making assumptions."

Harry laughs, a short, bitter laugh, " _I_  don’t notice you? Please tell me you’re joking, Draco because short of writing you a sonnet I thought I had made my feelings very clear."

"You _don’t_ ," Draco whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on his fingers.

"Draco," Harry sighs, reaching out to place his hand on Draco’s, "I thought I was slow when it came to reading other people but if you honestly think I haven’t spent every single day of the last two years trying to get you to notice me, then well, I’m sorry to say but you’re thicker than I am."

When Draco doesn’t even bother to reply to that statement, Harry gets up and walks around the table to sit next to Draco.

"Draco?"

"Blaise bet that I couldn’t seduce you in two weeks," Draco states, looking anywhere but at Harry. "I tried really hard, I was nice to people, I gave them compliments...so that you would see me. You have to understand," Draco holds on tighter to Harry’s hand, "He wanted Chester, my house-elf and I couldn’t let Blaise have him. He’s been with me since I was two, Harry."

Harry doesn’t pull his hand away but Draco can feel his posture become sharper. "Oh."

Draco waits for Harry to say something else but the man stays silent. He hazards a peek at Harry and the look on the other man’s face is enough to make Draco want to curl up somewhere and hide for causing that hurt.

"So you only wanted my attention because of the bet?" Harry asks in a hollow voice, making Draco wince and shake his head frantically.

Draco takes a deep breath and decides to take the plunge; he’s already halfway in either ways. "I’ve wanted you to see me for the past two years but I was too scared to try. The bet didn’t leave me any option."

Harry starts to say something but Draco cuts him off, "Not that it matters anymore, I called it off tonight. Blaise can have Chester."

"Why did you do that?" Harry asks, leaning closer to Draco.

Draco shrugs, "It’s not fair to you. You want the Draco that’s nice to people and leaves you notes, that’s not me and--"

Harry starts laughing loudly, cutting Draco off. It takes him a while to get back under control, one hand rubbing his ribs while he wipes his eyes with the other.

"What?" Draco snaps, arms crossed across his chest.

Harry shakes his head, still chuckling, "Draco, if you really think nearly giving Ron and Susan a heart attack was the reason I kissed you then we have some work to do on your skills of perception."

"Then why did you kiss me?"

"Have you not been listening to me?!" Harry asks, standing up to move closer to Draco. Draco pushes back in his chair and Harry steps forward into the space between Draco’s legs, "I’ve fancied you since the day I hired you. It’s not my fault you’re so thick headed you didn’t see it, _Merlin_ , how did you get sorted to Slytherin?"

"You never said anything!"

"And neither did you," Harry shoots back. "You’re completely professional at work so I thought you wanted that. This is why I’ve kept my distance at work. But you can’t honestly tell me that you never noticed how you’re the only one from the office I take out to lunch? Or that you’re the only one I invite over to the Weasley’s for Christmas? Or that time I threw you a surprise party in the office for your birthday? And when –“

“I get it!”, Draco cuts Harry off, a shocked expression on his face.

 “You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to pull you close and kiss you in front of everybody,” Harry sighs, looking into Draco eyes.

"Then why didn’t you do it?" Draco whispers, one hand reaching up to brush back Harry’s hair from his face.

Harry leans into the touch, moving his head so that their lips are almost brushing, "I didn’t think you’d let me."

"I could never say no," Draco sighs and leans up to kiss Harry, pushing into Harry’s touch.

Harry pulls away, breathing heavily against Draco’s cheek, "Merlin, do you know how hot you look in those trousers?"

"I look even better without them," Draco smirks, leaning back against the counter and enjoying the look in Harry’s eyes.

Harry steps back and pulls Draco with him, "When does the bet end?"

"In two days," Draco says, following Harry through the house. "Why?"

When Harry doesn’t answer, Draco stops suddenly, making Harry jerk and almost fall down. "What happened?"

Draco looks at him with wide eyes, "Please don’t tell me you’re only doing this out of some faint sense of heroism where you want to help me win."

Harry blinks and then moves, wrapping himself around Draco so that there’s no mistaking his arousal when it rubs against Draco’s hip, "Do you have any idea how hot you look in those trousers?" he asks again. "I wanted to rip them off you in the middle of the club."

Draco whimpers, his hand holding onto Harry’s arm so that he stays standing.

"The way it shapes around your body, I knew everyone there was looking at you but they can’t have you." Harry continues, one hand moving around Draco’s waist to curve around his arse, pulling him closer. "Does this sound like me trying to be a hero?"

Draco swallows and shakes his head.

Harry lets him go and takes a step back, smiling widely at Draco. "You really need to stop asking stupid questions, trying to be a --"

Harry’s cut off by Draco almost jumping on him, making the two of them fall onto the rug.

They have years of lost time to make up for and Draco would rather if Harry would put his mouth to better use.

 

(*)

 

Harry waits as the Floo connects, keeping an eye on the sleeping man behind him so that he doesn’t wake up.

"Harry!" Ginny exclaims, smiling at him.

Harry wraps the dressing gown tighter around himself, "Ginny, you’re up early."

Ginny eyes the sleeping lump behind Harry and smirks at him, "I could say the same thing."

"Is Zabini home?" Harry changes the subject. He’d rather talk to Ron first then have Ginny blab on him.

At her nod Harry asks, "Could you call him please?"

She looks at him suspiciously but pulls out to call him anyways. Within seconds Zabini is at the Floo, looking like he just woke up.

"What is it, Potter? Did you talk to Draco?"

Harry ignores the questions and makes sure to move to the side so that the sleeping Draco is clearly visible and so are the marks around Harry’s neck.

"I believe the terms of the bet have been met so you can send Chester back home."

Before Zabini can ask a few more questions Harry continues, "If you ever make Draco choose like this again I will make you disappear."

He closes the connection and wards the Floo before slipping back onto the makeshift bed, which is nothing but his transfigured rug, behind Draco.

Draco mumbles as Harry curves himself around him, one hand on Draco’s waist.

When Harry’s almost fallen asleep again, Draco asks, his voice raspy with sleep, "Would you really make him disappear?"

Harry snorts. "Of course not, but what’s the point of being Minister for Magic if you can’t scare a few people?"

Draco smiles and moves back into Harry’s embrace, enjoying the warmth surrounding him.

He’s excited for the day, not only does he have an amazing boyfriend _but_ there’s also a house-elf to get revenge on.


End file.
